


Coffee in the Rain

by captain_sassy_socks



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Coffee, Nighttime, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 01:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21171191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_sassy_socks/pseuds/captain_sassy_socks
Summary: Sam will forever be grateful for whoever decided to put a small camping stove on the list of mandatory off-world exploration gear.





	Coffee in the Rain

From the mug, the rising steam spreads the faint traces of the unique aroma. Sam deeply inhales the fresh yet acrid fumes. They travel through her nose, heat up her throat, and harass her taste buds.

Anticipation doesn’t build up inside of her.

She rolls the comforting object between her hands to warm herself. Nightfall, combined with the light drizzle from the clouded sky, has cooled the air noticeably, making her breath visible on every exhale. 

As if she could see anything in the all-compassing darkness. The campfire died down a while ago.

Their mission has led them to a seemingly uninhabited planet. After a day of exploring, they have yet to discover anything of interest. No remnants of extinct civilizations or ruins are visible, only a vast grassland and a mountain range at the horizon. Simply nothing. The only fascinating discoveries are the variety of grey patches in the overcast sky and the ever-changing intensity of the permanent precipitation.

Daniel was the first one to become fidgety.

Their camp for the night is set up in the middle of a patch with shorter grass. Their tents and rainwear provide the only shelter against the onslaught of the elements.

Sam adjusts her hood to block out the increasing rainfall. Several rebellious raindrops slide down her face, leaving wet, chilly tracks behind.

The hot beverage in her hands represents the only bright side of her watch in the dreary night. It keeps her busy and awake. 

She will forever be grateful for whoever decided to put a small camping stove on the list of mandatory off-world exploration gear.

She takes a sip and lets the burning, acidic liquid linger on her tongue before swallowing it quickly down. The warmth expands from her middle over her chest to her shoulders. A stark contrast to her freezing limbs.

The taste accentuates the pungent, however still meager composition that originates from military coffee powder, nothing to fancy or even to enjoy. Strong in caffeine, weak in taste. But it will always be a better option than instant coffee.

A cold shiver runs through her body at that thought.

Strangely enough, even on base, the dark liquid alternates between something hued and watery that masquerades as coffee and something similar to toxic sludge that could awaken the dead.

She will never understand how some people are unable to brew a decent cup of coffee. It’s not that complicated and certainly not rocket science.

Another mouthful flows down and settles in her stomach, burning brightly for a short moment.  
She presses the warm cup against her cheek and tries to absorb as much heat as possible. 

A content sigh rises from inside her.

Sam takes out her flashlight and checks her watch. 1 hour and 25 minutes more to endure before she can crawl into her snuggish-looking sleeping bag. She can’t wait to succumb to dreams of some of the finest coffee varieties to ever have been created by mankind.

Hopefully.

She rather suspects that sleep will elude her due to too much caffeine circling through her system. 

That’s the downfall of the dog watch. The time of night when everyone is usually asleep except for stray dogs and cats. And the lonely figure to keep watch. 

On this particular planet, even the creatures of the night do not accompany her. The monotonous patter of the raindrops creates the only sound at the campsite. It also drowns out her own breathing.

Drop by drop, the rain has diluted and cooled down the content in her mug considerably. It borders on undrinkable by now. 

Gulping down the lukewarm liquid, she wishes for something different than the stale, bleak taste.

Closing her eyes, she envisions her favorite blend that awaits her at home. A coffee, dark and bittersweet, with traces of chocolate fudge, roasted hazelnut, pink peppercorn, and singed cedar. She yearns for the silky-smooth mouthfeel and the crisp, richly drying finish. A balanced and harmonious roast that tantalizes all her senses.

The torrential downpour brings her back to reality as the water soaks through her boots.

Groaning in frustration, Sam curses under her breath and shakes out one foot. 

It’s always amazing how fast her mood changes when she wears rain-drenched socks. Grumpy would be an understatement.

Resigned, she buries herself deeper into her rainwear to prevent any more body heat from escaping into the chilly air.

The unappealing residue at the bottom of her mug stares back at her, still deemed valuable enough for a shred of comfort. She avoids dumping it onto the muddy ground, at least not without a good reason.

She forces the rest down in one quick swallow and grimaces at the meanwhile distasteful and questionable flavor. 

Assessing her situation, she debates with herself whether or not to prepare another pot of coffee. Ultimately, she decides against it. 

Another 54 minutes until handover, which seems like an eternity.

Maybe she should solve some equations in her head to stay awake.

Or carry out another perimeter check.

Or just be miserable in the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Coffee can be so delicious, but very often it is only a brown liquid with a questionable taste.


End file.
